


"Then it's a Date."

by jewelswrites_ish



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, real person fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 02:50:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17840996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelswrites_ish/pseuds/jewelswrites_ish
Summary: We run the same route every morning, maybe we could coordinate and run together.





	"Then it's a Date."

**Author's Note:**

> This OS is to be part of @itsbuckysworld’s writing challenge (tumblr). It got a lot longer than I had originally anticipated but once I started writing, I couldn’t stop. Originally posted on Tumblr. I didn’t get a chance to proofread this, so please excuse any and all mistakes. Please give a kudos and/or a comment!

_Early bird catches the worm._  It was a saying my father had repeated on a daily basis whenever I would complain hearing the military alarm at four thirty in the morning. It had been a retired Marine for years and still he would wake, like clock work, before the crack of dawn to get in a five mile run to start his day off. When hitting the ripe old age of thirteen, it was a routine he had engraved in my head no matter how hard I would fight him on it. However, to this day, I thank him for the strict demeanor and dedication as my day wouldn’t be complete without the stress relieving run in the morning before getting my already hectic day started.

Living and working in New York, however, was much different than living in the small town I grew up in. The once country corn fields changed into bustling traffic and the once peaceful sounds of birds soaring overhead, singing their songs toward the heavens above turned into car horns and crowded streets. With this drastic change, and the change of Central Park opening only at six in the morning, I had to find another way to spend my mornings before I strapped on my Nike Airs for my five mile run.

The ‘what to do?’ wasn’t hard, however, as I was able to take my work home with me and begin the day with a bit of tea and editing. Sitting out on my small balcony, I would sip on my green tea with a hint of honey while I read over pages from the ‘newest best seller’ and whenever six a.m. would roll around, I would be taking my normal route around Central Park.

This routine had been constant for almost six months until I began to get to know the others who would be running through my route. There was Elizabeth, a single mother who would run with her toddler in the stroller, who was also a Police Officer for the city. Roger, who was a construction worker, who would sit by the lake and feed the ducks. Stanley, an older gentleman who would bike around Central Park twice a day to keep up with his physique; he was a doctor. There were plenty of others who had familiar faces, but a simple smile and a wave were granted to them as I rushed passed them to lessen my time.

Almost a year into my residence in New York and another familiar face seemed to pass by - a face never seen in person, but one recognizable from the countless of times I’ve seen popular Marvel movies. At first it was a side glance where, mentally, I told myself I was seeing things and it was just someone who looked like the man with the shield. However, as the days rolled by, and the man zoomed by me morning after morning, I finally realized it wasn’t just  _someone_  who looked like him, it  _was_ him; his beloved canine was a dead give away.

Each morning I would fight the urge to stop him, ask for a picture to notate the day I met Captain America and rub it in the faces of my fellow co-workers, but each morning I stopped myself as my nerves got the best of me. I asked myself, ‘why would he want to take a picture with someone like me, as mediocre like me, when he is simply wanting to get a work out in before he moves on to the umpteen million things he has to do … whatever actors do. So I kept to myself, offering the side eye and occasional smile whenever he’d look my way.

One day, that all changed.

As the morning sky looked to rain upon the busy city, the sun fighting for its rays to cut through the dark looming clouds, I laced my sneakers tight, sitting on one of the many park benches at the start of my run. I had kept my headphones in with the song  _Only you_  by Cheat Codes featuring Little Mix blaring in my ears. Suddenly I had felt a tap against my shoulder which prompted me to quickly sit up, tearing an earbud from my ear.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” There he was, standing in all his beautiful glory. Chris Evans had touched my shoulder and was talking to me. Dressed in a tight fitting Under Armor shirt, tight enough to make out each chiseled ab, with basketball shorts - he was shaped like a God. “I wanted to introduce myself. It seems we’ve been running the same path for quite sometime now and I wanted to catch the name of the woman who I’ve been seeing every day.” Was this real, or was I dreaming?

“Uh-” My leg immediately began to bob up and down as my mind scrambled coherent words together to offer him. “I’m Y/N.” Holding out my hand as I rose to my feet, I offered the stunningly gorgeous man a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Chris took my hand in his, introducing himself. As he spoke, my eyes fell upon our skin touching, reveling in the way his large hand overtook mine.

“How long have you been running the same path?” he questioned, pulling away from the handshake.

“Almost a year,” I answered, letting my hand fall though it longed for his touch. “I would be here long before the sun rise but sadly the park doesn’t open ‘til six.”

“Military parent?” he questioned, his arms crossing against his chest, causing his muscles to evidently bulge.

“Mmhmm.” I nodded, trying desperately to keep my gaze with his eyes and not linger to his puffed chest. “Father. He would wake up every morning at four thirty to run, forcing me to wake up with him so it’s a habit too engraved to break.”

“Well running is a great way to relieve stress,” he informed me.

“Among other things.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I mentally kicked myself for it. Closing my eyes, I sighed, wishing the earth would swallow me whole. However, Chris laughed, finding my statement humorous.

“Among other things,” he repeated with a smile. “Would you like to run together today? I don’t have to be anywhere to soon and could use the company.”

“Yeah, sure.” Placing a friendly smile on, I made sure my sneakers were fully tied and placed only one earbud in (on the side Chris wasn’t on to give an extra bounce in my step when the urge to stop running would begin to filter through my veins).

And we were off. There wasn’t much conversation in the beginning as I wanted to keep my breathing in a constant rhythm, my feet going with the beat of the music playing faintly in my ear. The first couple of miles were always the easiest for me; it was always the middle of mile three where I began to listen to the negative thoughts in my mind telling me to stop and  _‘I don’t need to run so much every day’_ , so on and so forth. However, with Chris running beside me, those thoughts quickly changed to  _‘Show him how awesome you are’_  because displaying my athletic routine was such an impressive show of intimacy skills (notice the sarcasm).

Though my body was ready to tackle mile four, I began to notice Chris heaving beside me, his strides becoming less frequent to the point where he even stopped. Halting my run, I turned to face him as my hands found my hips. “Are you okay?”

“How many miles do you run a day?” he asked, breathless. He was bent over, his hands on his knees as he tried to regain his breath.

“Five.” Chris looked up at me, his eyes wide.

“Holy shit, I need you to kick my ass in gear; that’s my aim for my upcoming film.”

“Well I’ll be here every morning at six a.m. sharp to help you train. But right now, we have two more miles to do so let’s get that good looking ass in gear.”

**THREE DAYS LATER**

Running as fast as my legs could take me, I touched the trashcan marking the five mile mark and fist pumped the air. Slowing my pace, I came to a final halt before hearing Chris’s increased breathing behind me. “Okay, can we just both agree I’m never going to beat you in a race?” he joked, Dodger barking beside him. If I had to guess, the poor pup was reprimanding his owner for the extensive run he was forced to do before he threw himself onto the concrete. “You’ve even killed my dog. You happy? You’ve killed both of us.” Shaking my head at this, I walked over to Dodger, scratching the pup behind the ears.

“Hey, you said you wanted a trainer; what kind of trainer would I be if I was too easy?” Arching my brow up to the man, Chris nodded in agreement.

“Touche.”

“Now, I gotta run…”

“More?”

I laughed at this, shaking my head as I rose to my feet. “No, I have a meeting in about an hour so I gotta get to my apartment beforehand. But I’ll see you tomorrow, same place - same time.” Giving Dodger one more pet, I went to turn but stopped as I heard Chris calling for me.

“I actually have a free day; I didn’t know if you wanted to grab lunch with me … or something?” The last couple of days had been surreal in general - training Captain America himself to run five miles a day. A part of me wanted to believe he was more than capable of handling five miles and simply wanted to be ‘trained’ to send time with the cute runner - but the negative portion of my mind always got the best of me; his asking for a lunch date, however, quieted those thoughts.

“Like, a date?” I asked, taking my earbud out from my ear. Before Chris could answer, Dodger barked, his tail wagging. “Okay Dodger, I’ll go on a date with you; how could I say no?” Chris laughed.

“I mean … yeah why not? It’d be nice to get to know my trainer a little better; maybe find her weakness to finally beat her in a race.” Smiling at this, I provided him my phone number, requesting him to include his name when he texts so I didn’t ignore the communication.

**LATER THAT DAY**

Walking down toward the little Italian Cafe located on the corner of 156th street and Cameron, I spotted Chris the moment I peered around the outside seating. He noticed me right away too and the stunned look in his icy blue hues was obvious. He had only ever seen me in my running clothes; VS leggings with a tank and a baseball cap. Dressed in a[ white fitted work dress with a pink blazer on top](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fpin%2F864057878483871285%2F&t=NDI2ZGVmZWExNDI0MTdhNTg0N2FmYWUzYTE4YmQzY2U1NGEwYzgxYSxlNzM0Njk4Mzc5ZmIzNzRkMjIwMDU3ZWFmNDVmYjI2ZGM2ZTc5YWJk), matching heels and accessories - this was my normal work attire as an editor for a publishing company.

“Wow, you look …” Chris was at a loss for words which prompted a redness to creep in my cheeks, my hand hiding this fact from him. He was dressed in a looser fitted dark blue shirt with a pair of dark Levi’s, his usual NASA hat occupying his head. Though he was dressed much more down than I was, he still was a vision in white.

“Thank you.” Directing me inside, the host took us to an empty booth by the tinted windows. I assumed Chris had picked the small Bistro due to the windows as it would be hard for others to take pictures for the world to see; Chris did live a more private life than many celebrities.

Looking at the menu, I chose on a margarita chicken penne knowing my lunches were always my more filling meals than any other; though I ran, I ate like there was no tomorrow. “So, Christopher Evans, I’m assuming you’re filming a movie here in New York?”

“That I am,” he confirmed as the waitress left to enter the orders. “What about you? Did you grow up here?”

“No, I grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania where you’re either a Nazi or a Liberal; there’s no in-between.” I giggled at my own joke, hating how much it was a fact instead of a joke. “I moved up here about a year ago after I got my dream job as an editor at a publishing company.”

“I’m assuming you don’t miss your small town then?”

“I do every now and then; seeing the familiar faces and knowing everyone who lived there and such. But there was nothing left for me there after my separation from my ex-fiance so I decided the best thing was to get the hell outta there.”

“Ex-fiance? That’s a pretty big life change,” he noted, his brows raising.

“It was. I didn’t know what my life was going to turn out when it happened; if only I had a time machine to go back to then so I could assure myself life was going to get better. And in all retrospect, him breaking up with me was the best thing that ever happened ‘cause I wouldn’t be living the best of my life if he didn’t break things off.” Chris nodded at this, impressed with my positive outlook on what would have broken anyone else.

“Do the two of you still speak?”

“Every now and then he’ll text me asking for an update and whatnot, but most of the time he initiates conversation first; I’m too busy with my job to really think about anything else to be honest.” The conversation continued changing from ex’s to current life decisions to questions about his job to really anything else we could talk about in a span of an hour I had for lunch. When it was time to leave, Chris offered to pay for the meal in which I allowed him to after a few bantering minutes.

“You can pay for the meal next time,” he suggested with a crooked smile.

“So there will be a next time?”

“Well of course, I am seeing you bright and early tomorrow,” he reminded me. Lightly and playfully slapping his arm, I laughed.

“You know what I meant.”

“Yes, there will be a next time. I would love to see you again outside of Central Park.”

“Good, then it’s a date.”


End file.
